Gummy Berry
by Original-Z
Summary: It's Quinn's Freshman year at William McKinley High School and her first time on Sue Sylvester's hallucination inducing diet. Rachel Berry gets caught in the cross-fire.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Gummy Berry 1/4  
**Author**: Hippo_Crat  
**Rating**: R, for crude language.  
**Length**: 2,135 words  
**Spoilers**: Pilot for this chapter.  
**Summary**: Freshman year, Quinn is on Sue's diet.  
**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel eventually

* * *

The first time it happened Rachel wasn't sure what to make of it.

This is how it started.

* * *

She was alone in the restroom having just completed her daily, post-lunch, hygiene rituals when the door to the bathroom opened suddenly and Quinn Fabray entered. Rachel's muscles seized up involuntarily as she prepared herself for whatever cruelty the cheerleader had in store.

For her part, Quinn seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. The blonde marched, robotically, to the sinks and surveyed her appearance.

Satisfied that Quinn was content in ignoring her presence today Rachel quickly repacked her travel toothbrush, toothpaste, dental floss and mouthwash into the sparkly, pink, travel case. In her haste to leave the bathroom the plastic case slipped from her damp hands and landed on the floor. Right at the feet of Quinn Fabray.

Hazel eyes moved from the pink eyesore on the floor to the brunette eyesore standing in front of her. Quinn stared at Rachel and for a moment her eyes were wide with confusion. The girl squeezed them shut and shook her head as if to clear it. Rachel was torn between asking after Quinn's health and grabbing her belongings to simply flee the restroom.

The better angels of her nature won out and the brunette softly cleared her throat. "Quinn, are you feeling well?"

A familiar sneer marred Quinn's otherwise beautiful face. The blonde bent down and picked up the case. "You must be forgetting how things work around here, Vanity Smurf. Trash like you should feel lucky to be in the presence of someone like me. _Trash like __**you**_ doesn't get to speak to someone like me." Quinn turned toward an empty stall and emptied the contents of the container into the toilet bowl.

Rachel winced as the porcelain sink dug into her side, a direct result of Quinn shoving past her. "Later, loser."

The short brunette sighed and made a mental note to stop by the drugstore on her way home to purchase new oral hygiene products. Again.

Outside the restroom Quinn took a deep breath and leaned heavily against a row of lockers. The idiotic diet Coach Sylvester forced on all the Cheerios was making her loopy. If only she could just have something solid in her stomach then the world would stop turning on its axis.

No, that wasn't an option.

She had already cheated on her diet today by having her mother drive her past McDonalds this morning with the windows down. The calorie laden air she had inhaled would have to be sufficient to help her make it through the day.

After another cleansing breath Quinn pushed off the lockers and headed back toward the cafeteria. Rumor had it Brittany had smuggled in some diluted Vitamin Water; she could totally threaten the girl into sharing.

* * *

Rachel fidgeted impatiently all through Ms. Peters' English lecture. The singer couldn't wait for her next class; study hall. After months of campaigning Rachel had finally gotten Mr. Ryerson to allow her the use of the choir room for her free period. Of course her excitement didn't mean she was forsaking her school work. If prompted Rachel was prepared to repeat, verbatim, Ms. Peters' lecture—even her teacher's inexcusable mistake regarding the year _Romeo and Juliet_ was first published versus the date it was first _performed_.

Movement in her peripherals caught Rachel's attention for a moment; Quinn Fabray was also fidgeting. The blonde cheerleader would scan the room impatiently, stopping momentarily on Santana Lopez, her blonde Cheerio friend, two male football players, who Rachel thought of as 'Frankenteen' and 'the quiet one' respectively, before stopping at Rachel Berry herself. Each time it was here that Quinn would stop, shake her head and glare at the clock only to restart the pattern 40 seconds later.

Rachel frowned, it really was none of her business and she was certain that Quinn would not want her to meddle, but she really wanted to bring the girl's addlepated state to Ms. Peters' attention. It was at the behest of her sixth sense that she remained silent.

Before the bell was finished announcing the end of sixth period Rachel was out of her seat and out the door. With speed and precision borne of practice the brunette managed to reach the choir room, on the other side of the school, in less than two minutes without incident. Safely in her temporary sanctuary Rachel began to immerse herself in the music. All the negative events of the day melted away until there was only the sound of her voice echoing off the walls.

Elegant fingers stroked the ebony and ivory keys as she practiced her song choice for the MySpace video of the day.

The sound of the door slamming shut jarred Rachel from her progressive chords.

The brunette turned slightly from her position on the bench to see who was invading on her personal time. Quinn Fabray was pressed against the door and her eyes were fixed on the diminutive singer.

* * *

Quinn bounced her leg in irritation. Why was class running so long on a day when she was so hungry she couldn't see straight? The blonde effortlessly tuned out Ms. Peters' stunningly boring monologue. Who really cared about _Romeo and Juliet_, _**if**_ Shakespeare had written it, it really wasn't his best work. It was a sentimental piece of crap and the fact that it was required reading was a joke.

Restless, her eyes scanned the room for the—well; she had lost count of the number of times. It was happening again, she was pretty sure she had been hallucinating on and off throughout the day.

The diet was to blame.

After the early morning practice Quinn had overheard some of the older cheerios complaining about the hallucinations, there was talk of breaking the diet and eating something with nutritious value but Quinn knew better. Her older sister had warned Quinn against quitting. The last cheerio standing; the one who could endure without complaint would be Sue's leading candidate for head cheerio. It was a position she coveted greatly.

So she would endure. She would blink away the spots clouding her vision and ignore the allure of T-Bone Steak Santana, Swedish-Fish Brittany, Tootsie-Pop Finn, Sushi Roll Matt and Gummy Bear Berry.

Oh God. She had looked at Berry again.

She couldn't help it, she was _**hungry**_, damn it. And it had been **so** long since she'd had a gummy bear, it had been years and it was her favorite candy…

No. She had to be strong. This was a test, she was being tested and through strength and fortitude and resolve she could overcome—

The bell rang.

The delectable Gummy Berry was out the door in a heartbeat.

Maybe it wouldn't hurt to visit one of the vending machines in lieu of attending sixth period. It was a physical impossibility for Sue Sylvester to be able to guard them all at the same time. The odds were on her side for once.

The odds were not on her side.

Coach Sylvester always seemed to be ten steps ahead of her; always in place before she ever even got close.

The dusty, seldom-used vending machines by the auditorium were her last shot. Her crumpled, sweat-soaked dollar bill in hand Quinn crept along, delirious with hunger and adrenaline. At last, her target was in sight and it was unguarded! The blonde scurried forward, reached out a pale hand and just barely grazed the metal casing of the machine when she heard it.

The squeak of sneakers on linoleum. Shit. _**Fuck**_.

Panicked, Quinn dove into the first available room and slammed the door shut behind her. The discordant clanging of piano keys drew her attention away from her near brush with death.

Of all the rooms in the miserable school Quinn Fabray had managed to shut herself in with an oversized gummy bear.

"Oh, there is a God." She whispered reverently closing in on her target.

* * *

"What did you say?" Rachel asked cautiously, unsure whether this was going to be one of the times she and Quinn engaged in almost civil conversation or if it was merely the prelude to some self-esteem devastating attack.

"Shhh, Gummy Bears don't talk." Quinn chastised, quickly closing the distance between them.

Rachel rose to place herself in a more tenable Fight or Flight position only to be pinned to the piano, her ass on the keyboard and her back pressed against the fall. The brunette yelped out in pain and then again in shock as hungry lips descended on her exposed neck.

Much to the confusion of one Rachel Berry the assault didn't stop there. Quinn Fabray pushed herself closer to the brunette; she flattened her tongue taking a broad swipe over the tanned skin. She moaned with evident pleasure. "You taste good," Quinn commented, relishing every moment with the sinfully-sweet, forbidden candy.

"That may be leftover slushy from second period." Rachel responded reflexively. The higher functions of her brain were devoted to flipping out. Quinn Fabray, bastion of Christian heterosexuality and chastity champion was touching her. More specifically, the cheerleader was licking, sucking and nibbling on her neck. Somewhere Rachel's day had taken a turn for the weird.

She stood, stiff as a board, with her hands twitching uselessly in the air. She was almost certain this was actually happening and as such Rachel had no idea how to handle it. Her hands found purchase on Quinn's shoulders and she gently tried to push the girl away.

The blonde was having none of that. Quinn growled and pressed herself even closer to the brunette.

The cheerleader had had enough of toying with her food and bit down sharply on the smaller girl's neck. Two things happened almost simultaneously; first Rachel gave an embarrassingly breathy whimper and second as an instinctive response to the pain Rachel's hands flew up and accidentally hit Quinn in the nose.

The pain and watery eyes seemed to do an excellent job of snapping Quinn out of her trance.

* * *

Quinn was standing in front of—and practically on _**top**_ of—Rachel Berry and had no idea how she got here, why her face hurt so much, or why she could taste grape slushy.

Judging by the horrified look on Berry's face, the way she was holding her hands and the enduring pain in her sensitive nose the logical conclusion was that Rachel Berry had hit her in the face.

"What the hell is your problem, you psycho, loser freak!" Quinn bellowed as she gently prodded her nose to ensure no lasting damage.

"I'm terribly sorry Quinn. I did not mean to strike you and even if I had I would never have aimed for your nose—" Rachel was so remorseful she looked to be a second away from tears.

"You hit me! Are you fucking suicidal?" The blonde was going to _**destroy**_ Berry the second she left the room. No, better yet, she was going to sic Santana on the irritating midget with huge hands.

"You tried to eat me!" Rachel snapped in a defensive manner. This day was progressively becoming more bizarre.

"You clubbed me with your gigantic man hands!" Quinn wasn't certain who had the high ground in this argument but she would be damned before she lost anything to Rachel Berry.

Rachel pushed her hair back behind her shoulder to reveal tanned, smooth skin marred by several bruising soon-to-be hickies and a rather angry looking bite mark. Quinn winced; things were starting to trickle back to her, something about a very large gummy bear.

"You. Tried. To._** Eat. **_**Me.**" Rachel enunciated slowly. Her argument was uncharacteristically concise, but incontrovertible.

"Fine, I tried to eat you. I'm hungry and delusional and evidently very desperate. But none of that matters because none of it ever leaves this room." Quinn growled; her voice low and menacing.

Rachel nodded rapidly, more than eager to forget about the attempted cannibalization, about the lips on her neck and being pinned to the piano…She forced all thoughts of their encounter away and focused on the blonde. "Agreed, but if it turns out you were the harbinger of some plague that engineers the zombie apocalypse we will have words."

"Why are you such a freak, Man Hands?" Quinn walked away without waiting for an answer. Cheerio practice was in an hour and she had until then to get it together and win the position of Head Cheerleader. A Twinkie and a Sno Ball walked by her, holding hands.

Maybe a nap would be the best course of action until school finished.

In the choir room Rachel carefully examined her hands, looking the baby soft skin over and over again.

Perhaps it would be prudent to increase the frequency of her manicures from biweekly to weekly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Gummy Berry 2/4  
**Author**: Hippo_Crat  
**Rating**: R, for crude language.  
**Length**: 2,435 words  
**Spoilers**: Pilot for this chapter.  
**Summary**: End of Freshman year, Quinn is on Sue's diet. Both girls should really know better by now.  
**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel eventually

* * *

The second time Rachel recognized the early warning signs and was prepared to act accordingly.

When the Cheerios started dropping like flies around her Rachel knew it was time to be extra diligent in her endeavors to avoid Head Cheerleader Fabray. The soon-to-be-starlet caught Quinn watching her with undisguised hunger and prudently decided that going to the next class she shared with the blonde, sexual education, would be a bad move.

With a raised hand and a feigned headache Rachel obtained a pass to visit the nurse and left Geometry Honors early. The brunette was all too aware of the hazel eyes doggedly following her every step.

It was in the nurse's office that Rachel had her suspicions confirmed; there were half a dozen cheerleaders taking up all the beds and most of the chairs. The malnourished athletes all seemed to be in various states of exhaustion; some were sleeping, some were—warily—wolfing down energy bars with a paranoid eye on the door. One only had eyes for Rachel. The brunette made a concerted effort _**not**_ to make eye contact with the blonde cheerio she only knew as 'Santana's Shadow'.

Rachel wasn't sure how Coach Sylvester expected her cheerleaders to perform in that afternoon's pep rally if the hungry kids couldn't even make it through the school day. But such matters were really none of her concern. What _was_ wholly in the realm of things Rachel should be concerned with was the fact the Nurse Horowitz had just left the room with a muttered promise to be back in five minutes.

The brunette recognized that five minutes was entirely too long to spend with the tall, blonde, hungry cheerio sitting across from her. Rachel bolted from the room when the blue-eyed girl had asked if she knew whether it was 'rabbit season or duck season'.

This was how she found herself in the seldom used girl's bathroom on the second floor that stunk of mold. While skipping class typically went against her personal convictions Rachel thought it better to be a hypocrite than to try and brave a period of SexEd with Quinn seated behind her unguarded neck. If she could make it through 3rd period the only other class she shared with Quinn was 5th period English and then the singer would be home-free for the day.

* * *

Quinn stalked through the crowded halls, blind to the way kids hurled themselves out of her way. Students broke their formations and pressed against the walls to allow her space much like waves broke over the dorsal fin of a shark as it hunted at the ocean's surface. There was only one she cared to see and she was very much vexed her target was nowhere to be found. _Somewhere_ in these halls was a fun-sized Almond Joy and Quinn was determined to have it.

* * *

Rachel checked her watch for the 32nd time in the last half hour. Her Jewish Guilt™ was working overtime and she was almost certain she was developing an ulcer. Indeed, it was self-preservation alone that kept Rachel squatting on the lid of the commode in the stall she had, rather cleverly, placed an 'Out of Order; in Dire Need of Repair' sign on.

Six minutes. In six minutes the end of class bell would sound and Rachel would be free to attend AP US History. Never in all her 15 years had she looked forward to the Boxer Rebellion with such anticipation.

She checked her watch. 5 minutes and 41 seconds.

* * *

Quinn stood and left her Sexual Education class abruptly, leaving behind a classroom full of confused teenagers and one elderly woman. She was unconcerned with potential punishment. If the teacher had a problem she could take it up with Coach Sylvester—not that she ever _would_, mind you, but she _could_. The Head Cheerleader could not endure another minute of conversation any longer. The other students kept taunting her by turning into various foods at random intervals but she would not fall for their tempting ways. Not this time.

No Quinn Fabray was savvy to these food hallucinations. The chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles rolling back and forth in the corner was a lie.

Besides, why would she bother with these fraudulent foods when she had seen the damned candy bar walking around this morning? Furthermore as newly, and unanimously, elected president of the Christ Crusaders Sex Ed was totally unnecessary and borderline offensive.

Contraception, indeed.

Aware that her time was limited Quinn jogged through the corridors diligently searching for her chocolate covered salvation. She made it three and a half hallways before a more pressing biological urge voiced itself.

There would be a brief intermission for a bathroom break and then her hunt would resume.

Hungry and mad at the world Quinn threw open the nearest restroom door and roughly collided with the girl trying to leave the bathroom.

* * *

Rachel's slight frame was easily thrown backward by Quinn's forward momentum. The brunette grunted in pain as she bounced off the hard plastic of a bathroom stall. She rubbed the sore spot on the back of her head and prepared to give the foul, ill-mannered barbarian a lesson in etiquette on the _**civilized**_ way to enter and exit a room. Her words were caught in her throat when Rachel realized who had run into her.

For a long moment Rachel and Quinn did nothing but stare at each other.

"Stare much, Man Hands? Get out of here so I don't have to worry about you trying to watch me pee." The blonde sneered at Rachel with clear scorn.

Rachel could have kissed her. The **obvious** scorn was a sign that Quinn was lucid and in her right mind. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth the petite girl dashed through the open doorway and out into the [relative] safety of the hall.

* * *

As Rachel scampered away a burst of air made its way back to Quinn, the blonde was overcome with the scent of coconut. Finally, a fresh lead! That candy bar had passed through here recently.

Nature's call could wait. The trail was hot again!

* * *

Whether through divine intervention or random happenstance Quinn Fabray was absent for their shared English class. Rachel couldn't have been more thrilled.

Today her happiness simply chose to manifest itself by keeping a worried eye on the entrance to the classroom. She certainly wasn't _concerned_ at the blond cheerleader's absence. Although considering the frequency with which cheerios were dropping—three cheerleaders were supposed to be in this class and none had showed—perhaps concern was warranted. The image of Quinn Fabray passed out in the bathroom was most assuredly not playing on repeat in her mind's eye.

Despite her inner mantra—_it's not safe outside, it's not safe outside_—Rachel's hand shot in the air and once again she found herself feigning infirmity.

Hall pass in one hand, her belongings in the other Rachel made her way to the nearest vending machine and purchased a bottle of orange juice. Thusly armed the brunette made her way back to the last place she had seen Quinn. Thirty, or so, paces from her destination Rachel was grabbed roughly and shoved into an alcove between a structural column and a row of lockers.

Startled, Rachel dropped her books, her hall pass and the bottle of orange juice as she was brought face to face with the very person plaguing her waking thoughts.

"Quinn?" Rachel whimpered in an uncertain tone. Distantly the brunette was furious with herself for not sticking to her decided course of action but self-flagellation wasn't useful to her right now. The only thing she could do now was reason with the other girl.

"Quinn, I find your physical presence within my personal bubble to be quite objectionable."

An angry growl met her words. Quinn had backed up far enough for Rachel to get a good look at her. The blonde's hazel eyes were fever-bright, strands of hair had escaped from the taut ponytail she always wore and her grin was manic.

Quinn Fabray had left the building.

* * *

Over an hour of standing perfectly still in her hidey-hole had finally paid off for Quinn Fabray. The prey had, very foolishly, wandered right past her and was now at her mercy.

* * *

Quinn was going to town on Rachel's neck like she was a member of the ill-fated Donner Party and Rachel was disturbingly relieved. She was relieved because if Quinn was here—pinning her to a wall—it meant she wasn't unconscious somewhere, a victim to her own hunger. Still, Rachel wasn't so relieved that she was willing to allow the blonde to gnaw on her like a teething lion cub; she knew from past experience that Quinn would start with the biting very soon.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Rachel reached into her pocket and pulled out her secret weapon. Carefully, ever so carefully, Rachel opened the protein bar she had procured after the last incident. She was aware that the blonde probably would have preferred a candy bar or gummy bears but Rachel could not bring herself to support such unhealthy eating habits. With some difficulty, the girl was attached to her neck like a limpet, Rachel maneuvered the protein bar until it was adjacent to Quinn's face.

"Quinn," She drew the name out in a sing-song manner. "Quinn, can I hope to entice you with a nutritious alternative to my own flesh?" Rachel crinkled the wrapper and waggled the chocolate covered bar as near to Quinn's mouth as she could get it.

* * *

Quinn groaned around a mouthful of chocolate at the irritatingly familiar voice. When would Berry learn not to get involved in shit that didn't concern her? The blonde whirled around to give the infuriating brunette a piece of her mind.

Only to blink in confusion when she realized that there was no one behind her.

Well, _**that**_was disconcerting.

She was certain she had heard the grating voice of the Treasure Troll and if she wasn't in the hallway behind her then…

Quinn slowly turned back to her captive fun-sized Almond Joy bar only to come face-to-face with Rachel Berry. Fucking food hallucinations.

The small girl warily proffered a protein bar at Quinn like it was some sort of peace offering. The cheerleader smacked the bar to the floor angrily. "Why are you always pretending to be edible, Berry?" She ground out through clenched teeth. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment; she was infuriated at being fooled twice.

Quinn tended to follow a school of thought that went something like this: 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you're a fucking bitch'.

"You, y-y-ou—" Quinn struggled to insult the girl in front of her even as the world around her was growing dim.

* * *

Rachel couldn't contain the yelp of alarm when Quinn's hazel eyes rolled back into her skull and the blonde just slumped into Rachel's arms.

The tiny brunette struggled under the dead weight of the larger girl.

Carefully, and as gently as possible, Rachel maneuvered the other girl into the alcove where she guided the semi-conscious girl into a sitting position.

"Quinn?" Rachel tried to rouse the girl by tapping her in the face. "Quinn, are you capable of forming a coherent response?"

For her efforts Rachel was shoved backwards with a muttered, "Go to hell, Berrycuda."

Rachel rolled her eyes; the blonde was in fine spirits. She left the girl's side for a moment and retrieved the abused orange juice container. When she returned Rachel was exasperated to find Quinn examining the dropped protein bar with interest.

The singer snatched the bar away before Quinn could come to a conclusion. "It's been way longer than 5 seconds, Quinn. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to eat anything that has touched this floor. I have it on good authority that these floors haven't been cleaned with anything but dirty water since Clinton was president." With that the brunette handed Quinn the orange juice.

"I don't see why you endure such unhealthy eating rituals. There is no reason you can't consume enough calories to sustain a rigorous lifestyle with the workouts Coach Sylvester puts you through." There were a lot of things Rachel couldn't eat because of her self-imposed dietary constraints but she absolutely refused to starve herself.

* * *

Quinn finished the orange juice in one long, greedy gulp while Rachel was busily entrenched in her monologue. "Do you actually hear yourself when you speak? I mean, do the words ever come into contact with the portions of your brain reserved for higher functioning or is your frontal lobe too busy with pathetic fantasies of your impossible future?" The blonde pushed herself back into a standing position. She batted away Rachel's concerned hands which sought to steady her unstable gait.

Seemingly unbothered Rachel collected her strewn belongings and fished an organic, wax paper wrapped granola bar out of her backpack. "I was going to eat this after my vocal lesson but I think you might be more in need of the caloric intake than me. After all, I would be terribly late to my lesson if you fell off the pyramid and cracked your head open during the pep rally later today."

Eager to end their interaction Quinn quickly liberated the foodstuff from Berry's meaty paws.

The two girls stared at one another for a long moment.

"I'm not going to suddenly burst into a song of thanks if that's what you're waiting for, Berry." Quinn growled trying to make the other girl disappear.

Rachel didn't respond, she merely turned on her heel and retreated.

With a derisive snort Quinn watched her walk away. After several seconds the cheerleader turned to depart in the opposite direction. As she left Quinn caught another whiff of coconut.

The cloying smell clung to Quinn's cheerleading uniform. She growled in displeasure. Without a spare outfit to change into Quinn was going to have Rachel's scent all over her for the rest of the day.

The blonde took several unnecessarily deep breaths before she caught herself. She wheeled around and yelled at Rachel Berry's disappearing form. "And for Christ's sake, Man Hands, do us all a favor and take a shower for a change. You smell like you were rolling around in fake coconuts all week."

As Rachel turned the corner she ran fingers through her hair self-consciously; the conditioner was new and had been a gift from her dads. _She_ hadn't found the coconut scent to be at all overwhelming.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Gummy Berry 3/4  
**Author**: Hippo_Crat  
**Rating**: R, for crude language.  
**Length**: 2,750 words  
**Spoilers**: Funk  
**Summary**: During the episode _Funk_. Quinn is having cravings and Rachel is in the way.  
**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel eventually

* * *

It wasn't the third time _**It**_ had happened.

Not by a long shot.

It wasn't even the third time _**It**_ had happened since the start of Rachel's junior year at William McKinley High School.

However Rachel felt it a notable occasion due to the fact that it _was_ the first time _**It**_ had happened in a while. Specifically, the first time _**It**_ had happened since Quinn had been summarily booted off the cheerios.

* * *

As days went this was a fairly eventful one, even before one took into consideration _**It**_. Jesse St. James had broken up with her—through song, which she somewhat appreciated, her [ex]boyfriend had then proceeded to lure her into the school parking lot after lunch where an appropriately dramatic egging had taken place to underscore her humiliation and dash her hopes against the rocky shoals of reality.

And just in case she was really unfathomably slow in learning her lesson there was _**this**_.

Rachel stared at her beloved blue Prius in disbelief. Jesse and the rest of those Vocal Adrenaline reprobates had gone too far this time. Not only had they found it necessary to _egg_ her—with fertilized chicken eggs specifically purchased for the occasion from a locally-owned and responsibly-operated farm—the mean-spirited jerkwads had used the time she spent cleaning up to methodically cover her car in strips of bacon.

In other circumstances Rachel would have applauded Vocal Adrenaline's attention to detail but since her [ex]boyfriend had evidently embarked on a campaign to systematically destroy her inner and outer peace she was not so impressed.

Rachel began to breathe through her mouth in order to avoid the scent of butchered pig rendering in its own fat on the heated metal of her vehicle in the strong mid-day sun. She sighed, not looking forward to all the messy cleanup that would result from the malicious pranks, and popped the trunk of her desecrated vehicle. Unfortunately this was not the first time her possessions had been violated—although the bacon was new and a doubly nice touch on the offense-o-meter—so she was prepared for such events.

The tiny brunette pulled out a pair of disposable latex gloves she had…_liberated_ from the surly night janitor's cleaning cart—prior to his messy termination due to budget cuts. Out of the same kit Rachel unfurled an industrial-sized trash bag and began to pull each offensive strip of slaughtered swine off the car's once shiny paint job. Each strip was neatly deposited with care into her garbage bag.

It was times like these, times when her stomach rolled and her nausea climbed, that Rachel was thankful she wasn't prone to fits of regurgitation.

She winced when she realized the fat of the cooking bacon was leaving a lasting impression on her Prius. Always an optimist Rachel was thankful that the vindictive vermin of vocal adrenaline hadn't had the foresight to arrange the bacon strips to form derogatory words or images. Even still Rachel was anticipating the need to wash her car numerous times over the coming weekend.

For the better part of the entire hour before glee club's afterschool practice was scheduled to begin Rachel laboriously plucked each and every piece of partially cooked meat and meat-byproduct off her sun-warmed vehicle. Due to her somewhat _limited_ stature at certain points Rachel was crawling through the fat left behind in order to reach the elusive strips of bacon diabolically placed on the roof of her car. Thankfully since school had been dismissed, the buses long since departed, and any persons remaining on school grounds were occupied with their respective tasks there was no one to witness her rather humiliating struggle.

* * *

After over 40 minutes out in the hot parking lot Rachel was far past a lady-like 'glow' and had moved on to sweating bullets; as an added bonus she smelled ever so nauseatingly of murder. Since Rachel had already used her backup Emergency Slushy clothes after the egging her only recourse for a change of clothes would be to go home, shower and return to school grounds for glee practice—there was no way she would make it back in time.

The brunette shuddered in horror at the thought of _willingly_ arriving late to practice.

Sacrifices had to be made, since there was **no** way that Mr. Schuester could be trusted to competently run glee club without her assistance. Not this close to Regionals; especially not considering her traitorous boyfriend's cowardly defection. No, Rachel would have to be attendance in her current state.

Rachel power-walked down the empty halls, irritated that she was already behind her pre-Glee duties. She still had to get all the sheet music ready, bribe the jazz band kids to have them on standby for practice, procure some special '_coffee'_ for Brad and rearrange all the chairs in the room for maximum productivity.

The brunette was lost in her own thoughts and plans when she entered the practice room. This is probably why she did not immediately notice the aberration to her twice a week routine.

She wasn't the only one in the room.

* * *

Quinn Fabray was early to glee practice. She was so early, in fact, that she was in the choir room before the biggest loser in the entire school. It wasn't something Quinn was proud to admit but really there wasn't a whole lot else she could be doing. Her friends were all busy at their various practices which meant all the pregnant teen had to do was wait for the highlight of her miserable day. Well, that and fantasize about the forbidden meat.

God, she had never been so obsessed with bacon until Mrs. Puckerman had forbidden it in her household. Even though she was now living with Mercedes, a wondrous place where she was allowed to have as much bacon as her arteries could handle, she was still craving the pork product.

It didn't help that her 3 AM craving for bacon-wrapped REESE'S Peanut Butter Cups meant that there was no more bacon for her 7 AM breakfast. All day long it had been like she was trapped in some ridiculous Charlie Brown cartoon where instead of hearing jazz music when teachers talked all she heard was 'bacon bacon bacon'.

For Christ's sake her life was turning into a Beggin' Strips commercial.

No place was safe. Even now the tantalizing smell of bacon continued to waft on the air and plague the pregnant teenager, mercilessly taunting her cravings.

* * *

Rachel stared uncertainly at the blonde girl. She wasn't quite sure what to make of this newest turn of events. Brittany's presence would have been much more understandable—the cheerio often 'forgot' how to leave rooms, _**Quinn's**_ presence was much more nerve wracking. Rachel could never tell when she and Quinn were going to have a good day, a bad day or a _**weird**_ day.

The mezzo soprano decided that the wisest course of action would simply be to ignore the pregnant teen. After all, the fact that the girl had both eyes clenched shut suggested to Rachel that Quinn was trying very hard to pretend the brunette wasn't in the room—Rachel could return the favor.

* * *

Several minutes passed in relative quiet and just when Rachel was ready to relax Quinn seemed to perk up a bit. Hazel eyes fluttered open and locked onto the petite singer's frame. Her soft, husky voice broke the silence. "You smell really, _really_ good Berry."

Well, it looked like it was going to be a weird day after all…

Warning bells began sounding off in Rachel's head. Uncertainly, the brunette turned slightly and eyed the pregnant teenager out of the corner of her eye. Quinn was still casually stretched out in a tiny, uncomfortable-looking chair carefully examining her manicured hands. Rachel relaxed enough to give the blonde a tight smile. "Unfortunately I cannot concur with your statement Quinn as the stench of cooked pork byproduct does not fall under any heading I would remotely categorize as 'good'."

Confident that her conversation with Quinn had run its course Rachel busied herself with pulling all of the sheet music she had regarding Regionals out of her overstuffed, pink rolling backpack. When she straightened up Rachel was surprised to note that the pregnant teen had, with admirable stealth, changed her position.

The former cheerleading captain was now standing on the opposite side of the baby grand piano and was giving the petite singer a look that filled the shorter girl with unease. "Quinn," Rachel began in a quiet tone as she started to back away from the piano. "I trust that given your pregnant state you've been maintaining a diet with the proper amount of calories for you to function on a day to day basis." Surely the pregnant teen was responsible enough to keep an adequate amount of calories in her system now that she was 'eating for two'?

Quinn began to circle the piano, trying to edge closer to the diva without alarming the girl. "Sure, yeah. Whatever." She said amicably. The blonde was willing to agree to anything that came out of Rachel's mouth if it meant that the shorter girl would just **stay **_**still**_.

"It's just—you look _hungry._" Rachel noted nervously. Distantly a part of her was wondering if this is what Mr. Schuester had seen on _her_ face when they had performed their, somewhat infamous, "Endless Love" duet. If so she probably owed him another batch of "I'm Sorry" cookies, but Rachel had bigger problems than accounting for her actions. According to the clock there was still almost ten minutes until the glee clubbers would start trickling in.

It would be just Quinn and Rachel until then.

"Well, now that you mention it I might be having a _craving_ right now…" There was a familiar, predatory gleam in the light-hazel eyes that sent Rachel backpedaling furiously.

"Yes, well, in my research the general consensus seems to be that pregnancy cravings shouldn't be ignored. It would be wise to take advantage of the time you have before practice starts to go and fulfill your desires."

Quinn smiled with satisfaction, Rachel wasn't paying attention but she was backing up to a wall—in just a few steps Quinn would be able to satisfy all her irksome cravings for this girl that heavenly smell. "Have I mentioned you smell really, _really_ good?" The blonde purred as she took measured steps closer.

Rachel flushed deeply. She wondered why her traitorous pulse was pounding in her head like a jack hammer. It just didn't make sense.

Furthermore why was Quinn continuing to invade her personal space? Even with the blonde's newfound _girth_ there was plenty of space for her to pass by unmolested. Still, eager not to raise the ire of a pregnant woman, Rachel backed up even further. She backed up until she could go no further.

Only when her back hit the cool cement blocks of the wall behind her and her front was warmed by the weight of Quinn's body against hers did all the pieces suddenly lock into place. And really, she could throttle herself for failing to connect all the blatant pieces of evidence—she was Rachel Berry not _Finn Hudson_; there was no reason for her to be so slow on the uptake.

A hot, wet mouth pressed to her neck distracted Rachel from her internal monologues. '_Oh no. Not_ _**again**_.' Panicked, her hands flew up to push Quinn away. Unfortunately time off the Cheerios had done little to slow the former head cheerleader's reflexes and the blonde easily pinned Rachel to the wall.

'_Oh_.'

Quinn was busily laving the sensitive skin of Rachel's neck with an over-eager tongue. How was it possible that the tiny, _irritating_ brunette always tasted so _**delicious**_?

'_Oh.' _Rachel shivered involuntarily as her 'attacker' inadvertently touched on a rather sensitive spot just behind the diva's ear. Despite herself Rachel could feel her resolve wane as she relaxed into the pseudo-embrace.

It wasn't like she _**liked**_ it or anything—it had just _been a while_ and this whole scene was just stirring up memories of the first time and—

"_**Oh**_." Rachel gasped, her quiet intonation deafening in the intimate setting. '_Right_ _there. _For the love of **God**_, right there_.' She thought in desperation, letting her fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh under her fingertips.

All of Quinn's licks and bites had devolved into feverish, open-mouthed kisses that trailed up the length of Rachel's jawbone. At some point the blonde had released the singer's arms in favor of fisting her hands in the chocolaty strands of soft hair. At some point the brunette had made good use of her arms' newfound freedom by pulling the former cheerleader in as closely as possible. Any closeness was at once negated when a voice alerted the girls to a new presence in the room.

"Hey Rachel, about the new version of "Don't Stop Believin'" for Regionals—" Will looked up from his papers and was surprised to see Rachel wasn't alone in the practice room. His next thought was that the two girls were standing rather closely for people who ostensibly didn't get along. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Mr. Schue had years of experience in dealing with High School girls and all of it was telling him to leave this situation alone.

Rachel clenched her jaw and began to grind her teeth in frustration. Of course William Schuester would choose the precise moment that these bizarre little trysts were starting to benefit Rachel to interrupt. And people thought she was paranoid when she said he was out to destroy her.

"No. Not at all." The diva said after a moment of silence when she was sure she could speak without cursing the Spanish teacher's ancestors, existence and possible progeny.

* * *

Quinn's hazel eyes were cloudy with lust; her body was humming with unused energy and God damn it if she didn't have a new, somewhat harder to satisfy, craving. There was no way she was going to sit around all afternoon pretending to give a damn about whatever lesson in 'funk' Schuester had planned.

"I'm gonna be sick." She announced suddenly before cupping a hand dramatically over her mouth and sprinting [fast waddling] out of the room.

* * *

Will watched with concern as the very pregnant girl waddled [sprinted] out of his chorus room. He turned toward his lead soprano for an explanation.

The petite brunette leaned against the wall doing some sort of a bizarre breathing exercise. He wasn't certain it was helping though, as Rachel was very flushed and puzzlingly sweaty.

The awkward silence was suffocating. Finally Rachel had gathered herself enough to speak. "As an educator and a responsible adult—" The normally long-winded girl was forced to pause for a breath and she seemed to rethink her speech. "You should go check on Quinn." Rachel managed in a strained voice.

Will nodded and decided checking in on the pregnant teen would be a wiser course of action than staying with the confusing and oft volatile brunette.

* * *

Rachel watched her instructor flee the room with no small amount of malicious glee; both Schuester and Quinn deserved whatever mutual discomfort bound to arise from their interactions. Absolutely exhausted she sank into the rolling chair that belonged at the in-class desk; all she needed was a couple of minutes undisturbed and she would be able to return to baseline.

This is why it should come as no surprise that almost as soon as Schuester left the members of New Directions walked in—on time for once.

Rachel glared at the floor and willed everyone not to approach her.

This is probably why Noah Puckerman immediately came over to strike up a conversation.

She turned her, rather impressive, glare up from the floor to Noah's green-brown eyes. Her mouth opened to deliver a stunningly-boring soliloquy guaranteed to deter any potential conversationalists when—

"Is that a hickey?" Puck asked loudly, a somewhat pervy grin on his face.

Rachel instinctively clamped a hand over the side of her neck Puck seemed unduly interested in. Feeling the attention from the room's occupants beginning to center on her Rachel panicked and blurted out the first thing that came into her mind to distract everyone.

"Jesse St. James and his Vocal Adrenaline cronies egged me in the parking lot and now the souls of the murdered baby chickens are weighing on my conscious!"


	4. Chapter 4: Ending 1

**Title**: Gummy Berry 4/4  
**Author**: Hippo_Crat  
**Rating**: R, strong language  
**Length**:1,470 words  
**Spoilers**: All of Season One  
**Summary**: First of several possible endings to Gummy Berry. End of Sophomore year Rachel takes matters in her own hands.  
**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

* * *

Rachel bounded down the mostly empty halls. Each bouncy step was buoyed by the knowledge that despite their entirely **humiliating** loss to Aural Intensity and their somewhat more deserving loss to Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals New Directions would be able to continue for another year. In fact, the brunette was so excited about next year's competitions that she was already overflowing with ideas and plans for future performances.

This was _precisely_ why Rachel was taking advantage of the fact that most teachers were too worn out to care what their students got up to on the last day of school to seek out Mr. Schuester for an early strategy session for next year. She had already eliminated the staff room, the auditorium and the Spanish classroom as possible places her errant choir director was hiding and was fast closing in on her last option.

The glee practice room.

It was the last logical refuge for Mr. Schuester to hide in order to avoid his obligations; she was only two hallways away from securing her first solo of the next scholastic year. Nothing was going to put a kink in her plans to fully enjoy herself today.

Nothing except…was that David Azimio lurking by the girls' restroom with a slushy in hand?

After a quick detour into the empty astronomy classroom to avoid the unnecessary complications of a slushy-wielding Azimio Rachel was closing in on her destination.

The diva was only a couple of feet from her target location when a raised voice stopped her cold in her tracks. Rachel came to an immediate halt as she tried to determine the identity of the female in _her_ practice room. Was it Ms. Pillsbury having another inappropriate-during-school-hours 'meeting' with Mr. Schue? Perhaps Coach Sylvester was finally making good on her numerous promises to murder the curly-haired Spanish teacher?

An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she realized what was going on behind the closed door. No doubt one of the glee girls was using this time as an opportunity to petition Schuester to 'be more fair with solo distribution'—a poorly-disguised and dastardly plan to take her solos!

Furious; Rachel took tight hold of the door's cold, metal handle. Just as she was about to throw the door open to face the cadre of betrayers inside the familiar, female voice sounded again. This close to the door the voice was much clearer and much to the diva's confusion the speaker sounded…aroused?

* * *

"…yeah, just like that."

A muffled moan.

"—you taste so good—"

* * *

Scandalized, Rachel glared at the door with a look of utmost outrage. _**She**_ was the only person Quinn Fabray was allowed to have food-related hallucinations about. The very thought of Quinn pinning someone else against the wall—or oh, God against _**their**_ piano—infuriated the soprano.

The determined diva threw open the heavy door, her face screwed up in an intimidating scowl.

* * *

Quinn jumped as the door to the choir room flew open suddenly. Her precious cheeseburger slipped through suddenly slack fingers and hit the polished floor. Hazel eyes locked onto the depressing spectacle before her; a perfectly good Wendy's Junior Bacon Cheeseburger—the only thing that had made her smile since—well, since Regionals—strewn haphazardly across the floor. Buns, patty and bacon all desecrated.

With a fearsome glare, the likes of which hadn't been seen in months, the Head Bitch in Charge prepared to level the full force of her formidable wrath on the fool-hardy interloper.

* * *

Rachel's dramatic entrance—which is similar to, but not to be confused with a Diva Standard Storm-Out™—was brought up short by the unexpected scene she encountered. The tense lines and furrows of anger smoothed out into an expression of confusion. There was no _lewd_ tryst against the baby grand between Quinn and some skank who was probably a hallucinated (and no doubt promiscuous) Push Pop.

There was just Quinn. Alone. Seated on a riser in one of her post-cheerleading, trademark baby doll dresses.

Still somewhat suspicious narrowed, dark eyes carefully scanned the room looking for any sign of another person lurking about. It was due to her careful perusal of all major objects in viewing range within the confines of the room that the blonde girl's malevolent glower went completely unnoticed. This was fortuitous for one Rachel Berry as, had she witnessed such an intimidating scowl, she would not have unwittingly set certain necessary events into motion.

* * *

Quinn ground her teeth as she seethed silently. _Of course_ _**Rachel**_ had to be the one to ruin any semblance of happiness she could afford herself. Of course Rachel would then proceed to _ignore_ all signs of Quinn's displeasure. She was like the Girl-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Another-Day or maybe she was more like the Cat That Came Back every single goddamned day and just _wouldn't_ **ever** fucking _**go away**_.

Whatever. The girl definitely was one of those things. But it didn't matter; nothing was going to save Rachel today. She may be some sort of kinder, gentler Quinn Fabray who didn't take delight in torturing other people but there were just some things that wouldn't stand.

Mindful of the treacherous (and tragic) mess on the floor Quinn carefully got to her feet, intent on giving the short brunette a piece of her mind. Crossing the room in a few strides the former cheerleader made good use of every inch of height she had on the brunette to tower over her in an intimidating fashion.

"Is that how your parents taught you to enter a room, Man Hands?" She jabbed a pointy finger into the soft flesh of Rachel's shoulder. "Were you raised in some sort of argyle-covered, unfashionable, gay barn?"

Quinn's digs were ignored by the girl whose personal space she was frolicking within. The blonde could _feel_ her blood pressure rise as she realized that Rachel _**still**_ wasn't paying her the proper attention she was owed.

* * *

A vicious jab coupled with a shouted "Man Hands!" shifted Rachel's attention from making sure the room was absolutely empty to the girl in front of her. "Was there someone else in here?"She asked suddenly

Quinn was visibly vexed by the question. "What are you talking about?" She growled in exasperation.

"_Was there __**another**__ person in this room with you before I made my entrance_?" Rachel asked again, her tone hardened by impatience. Why did Quinn insist on making things more difficult than they needed to be? It was quite insufferable, really.

"You mean before you came storming in here like some ill-tempered yeti with a head cold? No. No one else was in here."

"Good. I don't like sharing." Rachel said before she pulled Quinn's incredibly confused face to meet her own in a searing kiss.

* * *

Quinn wasn't sure how her day had ended up like this; lip-to-lip with the single most annoying, persistent, socially inept, egocentric, talented girl in the entire school. Intellectually, she knew she should be shoving Rachel away and making devious plans to destroy the girl but she wasn't doing any of those things. Instead Quinn was losing herself in the single most intense kiss she had ever experienced.

The parts of her brain that were a holdover from a time gone by—the ancient, reptilian parts, the same part that had demanded fatty, salty pork—were practically purring in pleasure. The craving center of her brain that had plagued Quinn incessantly throughout the pregnancy was finally silent.

A skillful tongue teasingly parted her kiss-swollen lips and all higher functions of Quinn's brain seemed to shut down.

* * *

Finally.

**Finally**.

_**Fina-fucking-lly!**_

Rachel's body hummed with satisfaction as she **finally** got to turn the tables on Quinn Fabray. After almost two years of ambushes and frustration inducing moments Rachel was **finally** in charge.

And _**wow**_ did it feel good to be in charge.

The petite brunette felt her former adversary first stiffen before melting into the kiss and then enthusiastically return the embrace. A minute ticked by and then two.

By the third minute Quinn had pulled out the kiss, dizzy with both her need for oxygen and at the simple experience of kissing Rachel.

Rachel, having years of lessons on breath control behind her, wasn't quite ready to relinquish her prize and even as Quinn panted for air the tiny brunette let her mouth travel south, working the sensitive skin of the former cheerleader's neck. Quinn felt like each hot kiss was becoming permanently imprinted upon her flesh; the blonde girl arched into the intoxicating sensations, desperate for more.

It was the sounding of the final school bell of the year that broke the spell.

Reluctantly, Rachel broke lip-to-skin contact. Hooded brown eyes bore into hazel. "Quinn, how would you like to be the subject of my future essay, tentatively titled '_what I did last summe_r'?"


	5. Chapter 4: Ending 2

**Title**: Gummy Berry 4/4  
**Author**: Hippo_Crat  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Length**:1,635 words  
**Spoilers**: All of Season One  
**Summary**: Second **alternate** ending to Gummy Berry. Start of Junior year; it's been a long, long summer for Quinn Fabray.  
**Pairing**: Quinn/Rachel

* * *

Quinn Fabray was on the prowl. She was focused single-mindedly on finding and sequestering her prey. All summer long she had been plagued with unbearable cravings—well, crav_ing_ really—that had gone unfulfilled. This craving had burrowed its way into her brain; it had set her veins on fire, carrying the tainted blood throughout her system—every part of her body was touched and inflamed with desire. It was a miracle Quinn had survived the summer without going insane, but no one could be strong forever and this was why the blonde teen was stalking through the halls searching to the cure for her madness.

* * *

Rachel Berry carefully, but quickly, stowed her books and school supplies in her new locker. It was the first day of classes and while that usually bought most students a reprieve from the ever-present danger of slushy facials the brunette tended to air on the side of caution. If she was to be slushied she needed her belongings to come through unscathed.

Above the din of the crowded hallways light, quick footsteps caught Rachel's attention; her ears were acutely tuned to such sounds as a defense mechanism. It sounded like a Cheerio was gearing up to start Open Season on the losers of McKinley High; the petite brunette closed her eyes and stiffened in preparation for the sugary beverage to become an airborne weapon. The footsteps grew nearer and eventually stopped right next to the petite singer.

Eyes still scrunched tightly together Rachel frowned. Slushy facials were typically delivered in a 'drive-by' fashion with the popular kids too cool to linger in the presence of the social misfits—this was a puzzling aberration of the ritualized attack.

A loud, slamming noise startled Rachel's eyes open. Quinn Fabray stood to her left with one hand still resting on the locker door she had so violently slammed shut. Rachel wondered if this was what Vietnam Vets felt when they suffered a flashback. Her pulse was racing, her throat was dry, her body was becoming wet—with sweat, she was starting to _**sweat**_—and she had the sudden urge to lick her lips. These _**must**_ be symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, obviously induced by being brought face-to-face with the 'Head Bitch in Charge' of old. Nothing else would make sense.

To look at her one would never have guessed that four months ago Quinn had delivered a child. The blonde girl was dressed in hip-hugging jeans, a lavender tank top and a white cropped cardigan. The cardigan did an abysmal job of concealing a very flat, very taunt stomach.

Rachel was having trouble breathing.

This was, naturally, a response to the malicious glare on Quinn's face; any second now the girl was going to unleash some esteem-damaging vitriol delineating all the various ways Rachel was (and belonged) at the bottom of the social food chain.

Quinn's hazel eyes narrowed and focused on the lip Rachel was worrying.

It's funny though; Quinn's glare looked a lot more like a leer than it used to. Maybe she was just out of practice…

"Rachel," The former bully spat out her teammate's name like it was a disgusting slur. Well, actually it was less hostile and more…seductive? Had Quinn _**purred**_? This whole situation was oddly familiar…

Regardless. Quinn had addressed her politely and proper etiquette demanded she return the favor. "Quinn, it's nice to see you. Was your academic hiatus enjoyable?"

A dark frown flickered across Quinn's gorgeous—in an objective, aesthetically pleasing, non-sexual way—and the taller girl leaned into Rachel's personal space. "Where were you all summer?"

Brown eyes blinked, nonplussed. "Oh, yes I—"

"You were gone all summer." Was Quinn pouting?

Rachel took a deep breath to recount her wonderful and relaxing summer in New York City when everything clicked into place. She recognized that leer. She knew what those dilated pupils meant.

No it was ridiculous, preposterous even. It was the first day of school which meant no Cheerio weigh-ins and since Quinn, presumably, was not pregnant there were no pregnancy cravings to contend with—there was no reason for the blonde girl to be staring at her with such _**want**_, right?

* * *

With each row of lockers and students Quinn passed that did not present her target she grew more and more frustrated; the only thing she was really appreciative of was the fact that people were once again tripping over themselves to get out of her way. While she hadn't yet regained her former position of head bitch in charge and overall top-dog, the fearsome glare on her face was enough to cow most students into moving back. At the very least this made her hunt easier.

Just when Quinn was certain she'd exhausted all possible locations for her prey the masses parted for a perfect moment to reveal her prize.

Unable to stop herself Quinn's pace increased until she was speed-walking down the hall.

She halted scant feet away from Rachel Berry. Simply the proximity of the girl was enough to make the ache that had developed in Quinn's chest abate; a summer of watching and re-watching old MySpace videos was a poor substitute for the real thing.

Of course _**Berry**_ looked no worse for wear. Wherever the younger girl had spent _**her**_ summer she'd come back looking exceptionally tanned and well-rested.

Quinn waited [not-so] patiently for Rachel to open her eyes; she'd waited almost three months to look into those warm, chocolate eyes she could wait another 30 seconds. Brown met hazel and the blonde girl noted that the petite singer looked happy to see her. Also it could have been a mixture of dread and surprise but Quinn felt that was mostly irrelevant.

The two girls stared at each other for a long moment; the noisy halls seemed to suddenly quiet and then fall away. Quinn broke eye contact first when she realized Rachel was flirtatiously nibbling on her full, pink lower lip. The blonde girl bit back a groan at the way this evil girl was teasing her.

First she disappears all summer and now this? It was almost too much to bear.

Well two could play that game. "Rachel," Quinn purred, dragging the syllables out for maximal seductiveness. There. That had to be a point in her favor.

But then Rachel said her name; said 'Quinn' with such a brilliant smile, the taller girl could already feel herself melting. Quickly, she'd asked the question that had been on her mind since the second week of summer vacation when her 'random jogging route' had led her past the empty Berry household.

Presumably Rachel was explaining her absence but Quinn couldn't really hear her. All she could do was remember the momentary panic that had filled her when she thought the Berrys had moved and left Lima behind.

"You were gone all summer." She said mournfully, interrupting whatever Rachel was planning to say. "I missed you."

* * *

Had she somehow damaged her hearing in the last 15 seconds or had she heard correctly?

"You missed—" Rachel had started to confirm what she was certain she'd misheard. Obviously she couldn't hear anything properly over the loud thrum of her heart pounding in her chest.

She never got to finish her statement though as soft, warm lips had suddenly become sealed upon her own. The lip lock prevented Rachel's loud noise of surprise from escaping.

Rachel wasn't surprised that Quinn had again attacked her, out of practice though she was she'd still [somewhat belatedly] recognized the warning signs. No the thing that stole the breath from her well-trained lungs was the fact that Quinn wasn't licking her, or biting her, or even smelling her. No, Quinn was _kissing_ her and it was pretty much as amazing as she'd thought it would be.

After a mental shake the brunette eagerly returned the kiss, her hands came up and tangled in Quinn's ridiculously-silky, golden locks. She stepped in closer; bringing her body flush against the taller girl's and deepened the kiss.

Quinn's own hands weren't idle. She'd clamped her hands on the petite girl's slim hips ('Boy Hips' indeed, this was proof—once again—that Sylvester didn't know shit) and whimpered as she felt Rachel's tongue caress her lips, desperately entreating entrance that was willingly given.

The two girls leaned heavily against the locker, depending on the metal for support, as their tongues dueled with fervent zeal.

* * *

"You see, B. I _**knew**_ I heard two bitches in heat." A familiar voice drawled out interrupting the teenagers lost in their embrace.

Before Brittany could make any kind of response, coherent or otherwise, Rachel tore herself away from Quinn long enough to snarl out a, "Get lost, Lopez" before reattaching herself to her—,her—, her make out partner.

* * *

It would be difficult to say just how long the two would have continued their activities against the locker if the warning bell hadn't rang. As it was it was with great reluctance that the duo pulled apart.

Quinn's hooded, hazel eyes greedily soaked up everything about Rachel's appearance that they could.

Rachel's richly tanned skin was temptingly flushed. Her chest heaved slightly as she attempted to rein in her more primal _urges_. Brown eyes, darkened by arousal, swept the corridor anxiously; dozens of her classmates were staring in various states of disbelief at the spectacle the two girls had inadvertently put on. In a split second the diva weighed all the pros and cons of what she wanted to do over what she should do.

Her small, fine boned, hand caught Quinn's and tugged the older girl back toward the front doors morning traffic was still flowing through. "Nothing of import is ever discussed on our first day back Quinn. I think our time would be better spent in **other** pursuits."


End file.
